


The Memory of Joy in Present Grief

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-25
Updated: 2007-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Lian tells her little brother all about the uncle he never had.





	The Memory of Joy in Present Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cero_ate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cero_ate/gifts).



Like most fifteen-year-olds, babysitting her annoying little brother was not high on Lian’s list of most fun things in the world to do. Also like most fifteen-year-olds, she had argued profusely with her father (and stepmother, not that arguing with her _ever_ worked) that yes, she really _did_ have a life, and no, taking over for Omar for the weekend was not her idea of a fun time.

Unlike most fifteen-year-olds, Lian had even argued that she had Titan responsibilities that couldn’t afford to be cramped by watching her six year old brother.

The latter might have actually worked with her parents, if the JLA and JSA didn’t completely trump the Titans. And if every single member of her family wasn’t a member of one of those two organizations, of course.

Damn Omar and his stupid toothache, too. Lian secretly hoped the cavity turned into a full-fledged root canal. It would be sweet karmic justice for forcing her to waste a Saturday afternoon with the dweeb.

But not having much choice in the matter, Lian resigned herself to her fate, and busied herself with sharpening her arrows. When that was done, she moved on to her costume redesign. Because really? The next supervillain that pointed out that the arrow on her chest "lifted and separated" her boobs was going to _die._

Lian was seriously contemplating an arrow shaped belt when the dweeb got bored with his cartoons and wandered over to her spot on the couch. "What do you want, RJ?" Lian asked, not really looking up from her scribbled designs.

"I want you to tell me a story," the six-year-old answered promptly.

"About the Goblin King?" But really, even Jareth would probably reject her dork of a baby brother.

"No." RJ laid a hand on her arm, six years worth of mistakes having taught him to be extra careful with his big sister. The touch was feather-light, and belied every ounce of strength the boy had inherited from his mother. "Tell me about my Uncle Nightwing."

Lian looked up abruptly at the request and jerked her arm away. "You don’t _have_ an Uncle Nightwing," she snapped, sounding a bit cruel, even to her own ears. She didn’t mean to be…but the eight years that had passed simply wasn’t enough to stop the hurt she felt whenever Uncle Dick was mentioned.

"I _know_ ," RJ complained. "But I would have, if he hadn’t died."

Actually, Lian was pretty sure that if he hadn’t died, RJ wouldn’t be here at all. If he hadn’t died, he and Daddy might have found a way to be a _family_ again….

Then again, maybe not. It wasn’t as though they’d had a lot of luck with that _before_ Uncle Dick had died.

Either way, that wasn’t something she could tell her dweeb of a brother. He was an annoying little brat sometimes, but she’d never purposely hurt him. Outside of selling him to the Goblin King, of course. So before she answered him, she leaned her head back against the arm of the couch and closed her eyes, mentally reliving each and every one of the years she had spent with her favorite uncle.

When she was able to open her eyes again, they were wet, and RJ was holding her drawing pad in his hands. "You dropped these," he said, frowning. "I didn’t mean to make you sad, Lian."

Lian cleared her throat and bit down her memories. She was a _Titan._ She could have _conversation_ without breaking down and crying like a little girl.

"It’s okay, RJ," she assured, ruffling his strawberry blond curls. "I know you didn’t mean to. It’s just…you reminded me how much I miss Uncle Nightwing, that’s all."

RJ sat her pad and pencil down on the floor before sitting himself down, cross-legged next to them. "Everyone does," he said. "But no one will tell me about him. The only person who says anything is mean old Josh and he said -" RJ abruptly closed his mouth and his blue eyes fixated on the carpet.

Sitting up, Lian cupped his little face and used her most stern Titan Leader voice. "What does Josh say about Uncle Nightwing?"

RJ sighed, clearly not wanting to answer. But if her voice could stop H.I.V.E. in its tracks, her dweeb of a brother didn‘t stand a chance. "He says that what happened to Bludhaven was all Uncle Nightwing’s fault."

Only the fact that Josh Tacket was also six years old kept Lian’s temper in check. And only the fact that beating up children wasn’t appropriate superhero behavior kept her from beating the ever loving shit out of the kid.

She could wait. The kid was clearly headed towards supervillainy. Another twelve years and Lian could beat him for his stupidity freely.

"RJ, no one ever told you how Uncle Nightwing died, did they?"

"No."

"He died…he died in battle bringing the person responsible for blowing up Bludhaven to justice." Lian curled her knees up to her chest. "And we lost him. But with his last breath, he made sure his death wasn’t in vain. So…we never have to worry about Deathstroke ever again."

"I made you sad again," RJ surmised. He sat up and pushed his way onto the couch next to Lian. "Everyone gets sad when I mention him. And Aunt Donna and Aunt Kory cry."

"They loved him a lot," Lian explained, hugging her knees more tightly. "Especially Aunt Kory."

"Daddy says Uncle Nightwing was the best man he ever knew," RJ added.

The years of mistakes and broken promises fell away, and Lian was able to say with certainty and without hesitation, "He was the second best man I ever knew."

"After Daddy?"

"Yeah. No one else was as …good, or as gentle, or loved me as much as him and Daddy." Which was why, Lian knew now, that it had hurt so much each time he walked out their door. Mama might have been the first person to abandon her, but she hadn’t been old enough to _hurt_ until Uncle Dick had done the same.

And he’d done it more than once.

RJ petted her arm again. "Tell me about him? Please?"

She had every intention of telling him no, but the memories spilled forward, not really with anything resembling a timeline. Her first cartwheel, learning the alphabet, flying on the trapeze, cocoa puffs on Saturday mornings at the Tower….She broke off, frustrated. Pieces of the man weren’t enough to make RJ understand. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "Daddy always told me stories to get me to sleep, but Uncle Dick…he used to sing me to sleep. Old songs in a language I didn’t know, that his mother used to sing to him that always...always made me feel safe and warm and loved. I still don’t know what the words mean, not really. But sometimes, when I’m really frightened, and I don’t know what to do - I sing that song to myself. And i-it makes everything more okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Lian squeezed her dweeb of a brother closer in what might have passed for a hug. "And you aren’t allowed to tell _anyone_ , but sometimes? When I wake up from a nightmare, he’s still….he’s still the person I want there to comfort me, and make the bad dreams go away. Even more than Dad."

"But then you sing the song to yourself, right? His special song?"

Lian grinned, because good superheroes did that instead of crying. "That’s right. And sometimes, it even makes the hurt go away."

RJ scooted closer and gave her an honest to goodness _real_ hug. Lian ruffled his hair and didn’t protest, lest she reveal the tightness in her throat.

"Will you teach me Uncle Nightwing’s song some day, Lian?"

Lian paused for a long moment, to swallow down her hurt before she answered him. "Yeah, Richard John. I might."  



End file.
